


Swindle

by chelsapeek



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Not brothers, Slow Burn, human!AU, tags will be updated with next chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-05-08 02:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14684328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelsapeek/pseuds/chelsapeek
Summary: *Mafia/Runaway!AU*The man sets the bag of chips back down, “What are you doing here?”“I –“ Loki stuttered, gripping the strap of his backpack, “I’m alone.” Loki managed weakly, and the man hummed.“Where are you headed?”“Anywhere."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've uploaded in a hot minute; I've had it written up on my laptop for ages and finally tweaked it enough to post! It is also my first dip into the Marvel universe, so we'll see how this goes. Enjoy!

Loki’s stomach grumbled loudly as he stared at the chip rack inside the Seven Eleven, his breathing labored through his nose. The radio played softly overhead, some indistinct old pop music Loki had heard in every other corner store he tried to keep refuge in during the summer’s heat.

 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten – he wasn’t even sure how long he’d walked at this point, it must be near two months now. It had taken its toll on him weeks ago; he was starving.

 

The brightly colored bags seemed to mock his pain; their smiling mascots and block font calling out to him, knowing his hunger and incapability to eat them. Loki had pocketed food before, mostly candy and protein bars, but he would kill for a bag of chips and a slushy – or _anything_ hot. It had been so long.

 

Loki raised a pale, thin hand and ran his fingers over the bag of barbeque Lays. Two dollars and forty-eight cents. That’s all it costed – but Loki didn’t even have fifteen cents; not even enough to get a fucking bottle of water. What was he going to do?

 

“Hey,”

 

Loki jumped at the accented voice that came up beside him, ready to turn around, “No,” came the man’s voice and Loki stilled, staring straight ahead. The man came up beside him, seemingly browsing the chips, “Don’t look at me. Look to your right, slowly,” The man’s voice was low and light, and Loki slowly shifted his eyes, seeing the scrawny booth set up for customers to sit was filled by a man with dark hair and a red jacket, who quickly looked away upon Loki’s glance.

 

“Who is he?” Loki muttered as he shifted his eyes back, looking over to the man who’d spoken to him. The man picked up the bag of chips Loki had touched, milling it over.

 

“He’s been staring at you since you’ve came in. He has a gun in the back of his pants, and I don’t think he wants to just _make friends_ with something as small and as pretty as you,”

 

Loki doesn’t think before he’s reaching into his pocket and taking out his small switchblade, a heavy, silver knife with _H.L._ engraved into the handle, and brandishing it for the man to see, “I can handle my own,” Loki grits out, ignoring how his heart is hiccupping with each glance at the dark-haired man.

 

“Kid, even if you know how to use that thing, you don’t bring a knife to a gun fight,” the man dismisses, and when Loki looks at him he sees the man has long, golden blonde hair resting in a low pony tail with a scruffy, matching beard. He looks strong and sure, like the guardian angels Loki’s father used to talk about.

 

The man sets the bag of chips back down, “What are you doing here?”

 

“I –“ Loki stuttered, gripping the strap of his backpack, “I’m alone.” Loki managed weakly, and the man hummed.

 

“Where are you headed?”

 

“Anywhere,” Loki whispered, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched the man from the booth stand and make his way to the back of the store, his lewd gaze watching Loki the entire time.

 

“Well,” The blonde man says loudly, clapping his hand over Loki’s shoulders and nearly causing Loki to shout in surprise, “Come on, _Matt,_ grab your chips and let’s get going. Mom’s gonna wonder what’s taking us so long.”

 

“Yeah – yes,” Loki stumbled, reaching forward and grabbing the bag of barbeque Lays, watching as the dark-haired man in the back of the store gave them a sour look.

 

Loki walked to the register with the blonde man and watched as he bought another bag of chips and three orange Gatorades. He paid with cash and bid the old woman behind the counter a goodnight, Loki following him dumbly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You getting in?”

 

Loki stood outside the passenger door of the mans beat up red Jeep, rust coating the bottom and the tires near balding. The atmosphere was heavy and it bogged Loki down, mingled with the smell of garbage and gasoline. Loki’s eyes drooped – he just wanted to rest.

 

“I don’t know who you are,” Loki said, “what if _you_ want to have a good time with something as _small and as pretty as me_?” Loki tried to keep his patronizing tone as he mocked the man, but his voice shook far too much. _Fuck,_ he was terrified.

 

The man sighed, his fingers drumming on the wheel, “My name is Thor, and if you don’t want to get picked up by that guy,” Thor jerked his thumb in the direction of the store, “or someone like him, how about you hop in here with me. I promise I’m not going to hurt you, kid. If anything, I can drop you off somewhere less seedy.”

 

Loki bit the inside of his cheek, taking a breath before he reached out and grabbed the car door handle.

 

“I’m Loki,” Loki said as he got in, taking off his bag and bucking the seatbelt.

 

“Hello, Loki, welcome to my humble abode. Make yourself comfortable,” Thor said brightly as he shifted the car into reverse, backing out of the parking spot and shifting into drive before peeling out smoothly.

 

“How old are you?” Thor asked, glancing over at Loki from the corner of his eye.

 

Loki fiddled with the zipper of his backpack, “Nineteen,” He said plainly and Thor laughed, the asshole.

 

“Kid, if you’re going to lie here’s a tip: choose something nearly believable. Now, how old are you really?”

 

Loki grit his teeth, huffing and sitting back in his seat, “Fine. I’m sixteen.”

 

“What got you out here?” Thor asked as he began to fiddle with the radio, flicking through the stations until he found rock music.

 

“I ran away.”

 

“What happened to your family?” Thor asked after a beat, softer now.

 

Loki didn’t respond, staring through the passenger window at the buildings as he ran shaking fingers up and down his bag. He could still see it; his father putting him and his brothers in the basement for protection before being slain himself, his brothers then trying to fend off the intruders from their small home. Helbindi’s tears, the first time Loki had ever seen him cry, as he hid Loki in the attic after Byleistr had been shot. There had been more of them coming, prepared to take their debts, and Helbindi kissed Loki on the forehead and gave him his own switchblade before he shut the small crawl space door and latched it. Loki had wished the insulation would’ve soundproofed the attic, but he heard all too clear the shouts as his last remaining family member was slaughtered, and then the loud crashes of the men ransacking his home.

 

“Sensitive subject?” Thor asked, nearly jokingly, but when Loki continued to glare out of the passenger window Thor’s chuckle died off awkwardly. “So, where am I dropping you off?”

 

“Anywhere that has hot food,” Loki answered, “and a bed.”

 

Thor whistled, “That’s a fairly high order. How do you feel about dry cereal and a couch?”

 

Loki shrugged, “Guess that’s better than nothing.”

 

Thor clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze that only made Loki wince in pain, “See! Now you’re getting it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Thor used to be a cop, he told Loki. Or, more accurately, a _corrections officer_. He worked in a prison as a guard, he used to sit at his watch post in the yard and supervise the inmates during their recess hours and, sometimes, he’d be put in the cafeteria and had to break up fights. He hated it, but it paid seventy-five thousand starting off, his father was too sick to work anymore, and his mother had died five years beforehand. He told Loki that’s when he learned how to aim a gun and shoot it, how to disarm someone, and how to win a fight. Loki asked if Thor had ever shot someone inside the prison. Thor didn’t reply, he only turned the radio up louder.

 

Thor is twenty-two, and he’s only been travelling since his dad died a week ago. Thor quit his job three days after his father’s passing, called his friends on the other side of the country, packed the essentials and left. “I’m relieved, in a way, that he died,” Thor says as they switch lanes into an exit, the only ones on the road, “He was in a lot of pain. I didn’t like watching him suffer.” Thor becomes quiet when he talks about his dad, his voice growing grief stricken. Loki finds he hates that sound, it reminds him too much of how his brothers used to talk about their mom.

 

Thor is an only child. His mother spoiled him with candies and toys while his dad had always taken him fishing and camping and hunting, up until he’d gotten sick. Thor was a star child, and okay _maybe_ he doesn’t _say_ that, but Loki can assume enough.

 

“Did you have any siblings?” Thor asks as they rounded another wide corner on the highway, headed west from Pennsylvania to California where Thor has some friends he is going to stay with. He talked about doing some jobs to make money, but told Loki not to worry his pretty head about the details. He was too young, anyways.

 

“No,” Loki answers hardly, and Thor nods. Better to not give the man more information than he needs to.

 

“What about your parents?”

 

“My mom died when I was born. My dad – he,” Loki felt a knot in his throat the size of a bowling ball, “died too. A few months ago.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Thor says, and he sounds honest about it. Like he’s the one who broke into Loki’s home and ruined his life.

 

“It’s whatever,” Loki says gently, surprising himself.

 

“What does the engraved H.L. mean? On your knife,” Thor says after a moment, gesturing to Loki’s lap to his bag, wherein Helbindi’s switchblade laid tucked away. It had been a gift from their father to Helbindi for his eighteenth birthday. If he closes his eyes, Loki can feel the phantom press of his older brother’s lips against his hairline along with the press of the cold metal into his palm.

 

Loki breathed steady through his nose, “I don’t know. I stole it,” Loki lied.

 

“Oh,” Thor acknowledged, adjusting his grip on the wheel as they continued on.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The motel Thor pulls into glares its vacancy sign in a sickening yellow, shone bright above the rotting, L-shaped building. The parking lot is filled with potholes and the lines are nearly faded to nonexistence, but its only twenty bucks a night and Loki assumes Thor doesn’t have much of that seventy-five thousand left over.

 

“The room only has one bed,” The wrinkled, greying man at the counter says, giving Thor a sideways glance as his eyes shift to Loki: young and petite next to Thor’s large frame and Loki assumes this poor old guy has seen this scene a thousand times before with worse outcomes.

 

“That’s alright; younger brother gets the couch, then,” Thor jokes as he nudges Loki with his elbow, and Loki could physically _see_ the moral weight lifted from the guy’s narrow shoulders when he hands over the room key.

 

“You can have the bed,” Thor tells Loki as they walk inside, Thor dropping his bag onto the desk and Loki setting his onto the coffee table. The room looks clean enough, just old and dusty. Loki knows he probably reeks, and glances to the open bathroom door where the shower sadly stands; rusted pipes and yellowed tile.

 

“I’m gonna shower,” Loki says as he picks up his bag, not waiting for Thor’s response before he locks himself inside the bathroom.

 

Once the door is shut, Loki sinks to the floor and breathes heavy into his hands. What the fuck is he doing? Travelling across the country with this random man, talking about dead parents and old jobs like they’ve known each other for years and are simply catching up. Loki doesn’t even know what he’ll do once he gets to California, assuming Thor brings him along that far.

 

Loki peels off his clothes and forces himself into the disgusting shower, turning on the tap and thanking whatever God that’s still watching for the scalding hot water that pours out instantly. The provided shampoo and body wash smells overly perfumed and cheap but Loki still uses it all, scrubbing the sweat and grease from his shoulder length black hair before coating a washcloth and nearly peeling off a layer of skin as he scoured the rest of his body clean.

 

He dries himself off and gets dressed in the second pair of clothes he brought with him. Those are dirty, too, but not as bad as his first set. His stomach grumbles loudly as he pulls the grey t-shirt over his head, reminding him that he still hasn’t eaten. His hair is in knots and it takes him nearly fifteen minutes to comb through it all, braid it, and tie it off with a hairband.

 

When Loki emerges, he sees all the lights have been turned off. The TV plays on mute, the local weatherman waving over a technicolor map of the area. Thor has taken the quilt from the bed and one of the two pillows to the couch where he snores, and Loki glances to Thor’s bag on the desk.

 

He could do it. Helbindi had taught him the basics of how to drive, and Loki was always fast learner. Loki had seen that Thor had about two hundred dollars in his wallet, along with some credit cards. Loki could leave right now, he could go anywhere.

 

Loki walks over to Thor’s bag and opens it, seeing the chips and Gatorades stacked on top of clothes. He polishes off the entire bag of barbeque and chugs one of the sports drinks before he crawls meekly into the bed that smells vaguely of cigarettes and lavender laundry detergent, falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The situation isn’t as bad as Loki originally thought it was. He and Thor get along pretty well when Loki is rested and isn’t on the brink of starvation, Loki comes to find.

 

Thor actually pretty funny, and fairly kind. He buys Loki hot meals and tells him stories from high school, ones about getting caught in the computer lab with his pants down or on the track field with a clear trash bag full of hotdog buns, tripping on old edibles. Loki laughs so hard he can’t breathe, and he remembers reluctantly that he hasn’t laughed since he lost his family.

 

So, what if Thor keeps his own gun in his suitcase, Loki already knew from how Thor talked about his friends that something illegal had been going down. Thor was nice and he let Loki choose the music sometimes and when they stopped for the night he’d always let Loki have the bed.

 

He was a handsome guy who liked radio talk shows and missed his dad. Loki could see himself spending a lifetime in Thor’s passenger seat.

 

“We’ll be to California by the end of the week,” Thor tells him as they drive out of the Colorado family diner where Thor stopped them for a late lunch, Loki’s stomach heavy with the burger and milkshake he just pounded down. Thor had laughed as he watched Loki eat, telling Loki he might be the only person who could eat faster than Thor himself.

 

Loki had thrown a French fry at Thor that had gotten stuck in the golden waves of hair falling around his shoulders, the action ensuing a ten-minute game of trying to see who could throw a fry into the others mouth with better accuracy. Loki’s cheeks heated at the memory, thinking of how his chest had felt so _full_ as Thor laughed brightly with each tossed fry that Loki _might’ve_ purposefully thrown at Thor’s forehead.

 

“Oh,” Is all Loki says, knowing this had to come to an end at some point. Loki’s not sure what he’s going to do, if anything he might have to swallow his pride and go to an open-door mission, or some other place that takes in stupid, homeless kids. At least until he’s old enough to work.

 

Thor takes them down some backroads, away from the main strip, and once they pull into a long dirt driveway Loki glances over.

 

“What are you doing?” Loki asks, surveying the medium-sized, multi-layered farmhouse house as Thor drives up to it, the baby blue paint peeling rebelliously around the windows and door.

 

“Just have to grab something for my friends,” Thor says lightly, and Loki nods. Thor had left him during their lunch, stepping out to make a few phone calls. Loki had been so focused on the television in the corner of the diner, playing one of the old action movies that Byleistr had loved, to care.

 

Thor parks his jeep and jumps out with a skip in his step. Loki watches as he approaches the door, knocking three times in succession before the door cracks open and a dark-haired woman greets him fondly. They share a warm hug before she retreats back into the home for what seems like merely seconds, returning with a large black duffle bag. Thor kisses her on the cheek and bids her a farewell before he is jogging back to the car and tossing the bag in the trunk.

 

“Thor?” Loki asks as Thor starts the car back up, turning around in the tall grass and heading toward the main strip.

 

“What’s up, kid?”

 

“What exactly is the work do your friends do?”

 

A silence falls as Thor drums his fingers on the wheel, a tick Loki noticed Thor does each time he doesn’t know how to answer a question.

 

“They…” Thor sighs, sitting back in his seat, “They take jobs, and… oh, I don’t know, kid, I’ve already told you enough…” Thor grumbles, fiddling with the radio volume, “They do bad stuff,” Thor admits eventually, shrugging, “But only to people who deserve it.”

 

“So, they’re hitmen?” Loki asks, trying to hide his interest.

 

“Sort of?” Thor cocks his brow as he rests his left elbow against the window, fingers brushing the top of the glass, “But don’t sweat it. You don’t have to meet them, I’ll just,” Thor trails off again, and Loki knows he is wondering what Loki will do once they get to California. Loki had been wondering about it, too.

 

“Could I?” Loki asks, “Meet them. I could help with doing something small.”

 

“Like what, run coffee?” Thor offers with a lopsided smirk, seemingly imagining it, “No, you’re a good kid. I don’t want you getting mixed up in this stuff.”

 

“I’m not a kid,” Loki says bitterly, his voice rising, “I can hold my own – I can handle a little blood. I’ve seen it before.” The atmosphere in the car becomes thick, Loki realizing this is the first time he’s shouted at Thor.

  
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Thor snaps back, “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

 

“Thor, I can handle –”

 

“I don’t _care_ if you can _handle it_ , I don’t _want_ you to just handle it, Loki, _for fucks sake_ ,” Thor says furiously, stopping suddenly and taking a deep breath, “You don’t even know how to hold a gun, Loki,” He says after a beat, softer, more rational, “We’ll figure something out, just…”

 

“You could teach me,” Loki mutters, sitting back in his seat with a huff, and Thor doesn’t respond.

 

“Hey,” Thor changes the subject awhile later as they come up upon a strip mall, glancing over to Loki, “do you have any clothes in that bag besides the two shirts I’ve seen you wear?”

 

Loki shakes his head, watching as Thor takes the exit and rolls into the parking lot.

 

“What are you doing?” Loki says warily, prepared to keep holding his grudge.

 

“Well,” Thor says, nonchalant, as he loops around the parking lot, pulling into a spot, “if you’re going to meet my friends, you’re going to need better clothing than that, or at least something clean,” Thor turns off the car and unclicks his seatbelt, ignoring Loki’s beaming grin that crosses his face, “C’mon.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki smooths out another shirt and folds it neatly as he places it into the new suitcase, smiling to himself as he hears Thor’s 80’s rock coming from the motel’s bathroom as the man showers. Thor had gotten him multiple new outfits, paying with a discreet looking card that he told Loki not to worry about. Along with the clothes came the new suitcase, a new pair of sneakers, and a pay-as-you-go phone that Thor put his own number into as soon as they activated it.

 

Once they leave in the morning, they should be to California by nightfall. Thor told Loki about his friend Tony with his high-rise mansion and the rest of the _Avengers_ , as Thor called them. He still refused to go into great detail, but from what Loki understood it seemed they were high-level hitmen and conmen. Loki had a hard time imagining sweet Thor, all bright smiles and funky music, blowing somebody’s head off, but then again Loki and his brothers hadn’t thought their own father owed nearly half a million to a seedy gang-run casino.

 

Funny how things work that way.

 

“What do you want for dinner?” Thor asks as he emerges from the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips. Loki packs away his last pair of pants, shrugging. Thor picks up the laminated piece of paper laying on the desk, red and black font outlining the local take-out delivery restaurants and their numbers, “How does Chinese sound?”

 

“Fine with me,” Loki says, snapping his suitcase shut and setting it in-between the bed and the window. He turns on the TV and _doesn’t_ stare as Thor gets dressed and calls the Chinese restaurant, ordering them each a meal and drinks.

 

“Hey,” Thor says after he’s hung up, sitting beside Loki on the mattress.

 

“Hey,” Loki echoes, fiddling the remote in his hands as he looks over to Thor.

 

“We gotta talk,” Thor says gently and oh _fuck,_ he’s pulling his gun out from behind his back, glinting silver in the orange light of the old hotel lamps. Loki nearly pisses his pants.

 

“ _Thor_ ,” Loki feels his voice crack, his stomach dropping as he scrambles away and drops the remote, “please, don’t, I’ll leave, I won’t tell anyone –”

 

“What – no, Loki,” Thor sets the gun onto the quilt, reaching out to Loki who has managed to stand and press himself against the far wall, brandishing his hands, “I want to show you how to aim a gun.” Thor almost _laughs_ at him, smiling stupidly at the misunderstanding, and Loki stares at him gaping before punching Thor in the shoulder, “Ow!”

 

“That wasn’t funny, asshole! You don’t just say, _‘we have to talk,’_ and then pull a gun out on someone!” Loki yells, hitting him again, Thor catching Loki by the wrist and _shit,_ he’s still smiling like an idiot.

 

“I’m sorry,” Thor says honestly, but he still looks like he could burst out laughing any second, “I mean it, I didn’t mean to scare you. I wouldn’t shoot you. C’mere.” Thor pats the bed next to him and Loki sits with a huff, watching as Thor picks the firearm back up and takes Loki’s hands in his, one arm looping around Loki’s back.

 

“Hold it tight,” Thor says, his voice suddenly low and directly in Loki’s ear. Loki’s heart hammers, and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s holding a gun for the first time in his life or because Thor is so close to him that he can smell his spiced shampoo. “Put your finger here,” Thor adjusts Loki’s fingers until he’s holding it to Thor’s satisfaction, and then Thor is extending Loki’s arms until he’s holding the gun out in front of himself, aimed at the wall above the hotel desk.

 

“And then, you shoot,” Thor says, hushed and directly into Loki’s left ear, and pushes down on Loki’s finger to click the trigger. Loki holds back a gasp as he does, waiting for the loud _bang_ , but the gun merely makes a faint _click_. Empty. “See? Not too hard. Just need to know what you’re doing.”

 

“Right,” Loki says as Thor takes the gun back, lost in the feeling of Thor pressed against his back, his mouth ghosting the edge of Loki’s ear. The doorbell rings and Thor smiles at him again.

 

“Hungry?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thor never went to college. He tells Loki such, and that it wasn’t a money issue or a grades issue, he just wasn’t ready. He can’t really explain it, but Loki thinks he understands. It would’ve been too different, and Thor was so young and naive, he didn’t know what he wanted. Thor says he knows what he wants now.

 

Although Thor never attended one single college class, he knows a lot about space and stars. He dated a girl in high school, Jane, who went on to be an astrophysicist and Thor heard a lot of it from her. He tells Loki about how he really loved Jane, but he knew he was holding her back. Thor doesn’t remember all the science stuff she’d said, but when Thor’s mother passed Jane told Thor about the stars and how we all become dirt and atoms once we die, filtering back into the circle of life and becoming something bigger, never truly leaving forever.

 

“Thor?” Loki says softly, watching through his window as the sun sets and glints off the passing cars.

 

“What’s up, kid?”

 

“I had brothers. Two of them.”

 

“Oh,” Thor says, sounding surprised. Loki isn’t sure if Thor is surprised that Loki is finally talking about himself or if because he’s realizing Loki had lied to him before, “Where are they?”

 

“They died, too. When my dad did.” Loki keeps his voice quiet. He doesn’t miss how Thor turns down the radio to hear him better. He does, however, miss Thor’s hand moving until it’s set on Loki’s leg.

 

“How?” Thor’s hand is a solid weight on Loki’s leg and Loki can’t remember the last time he was touched so gently; it feels like a burning brand on his thigh, as if Loki will have this imprint on him for the rest of his life – an imprint of Thor’s empathy for a scrawny homeless kid he picked up at a corner store and treated like his own.

 

“My dad liked to gamble,” Loki feels his throat thicken, coughing to clear it, “but he didn’t like to pay. They showed up at our house and killed him, and then they killed my brothers. I hid in the attic. I ran away once they left.”

 

Thor breathes in sharply through his nose, and Loki remembers weakly how he’d told Thor that he’d seen blood before. He wonders if Thor is picturing it, Loki surrounded by the blood and dead corpses of his kin.

 

“I’m sorry,” Is all Thor says, and Loki doesn’t fault him for that. For everything Thor has done, Loki assumes he has finally been rendered speechless.

 

“It’s alright.” Loki says dismissively, breathing deeply and resetting himself.

 

“No, it’s not.” Thor’s voice has an edge to it, but Loki only shakes his head.

 

“Yeah, it’s not. But it’s okay.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony Starks house is _huge._

 

The man greets Thor as they enter, Loki trying to not ogle at the impeccable landscaping around the multi-level mansion as well as the expensive furnishing and technology inside. Loki can’t even begin to comprehend how much it all must’ve costed, or rather how intelligent Stark must be by building it all himself.

 

“Hey, hey! There’s the thunder!” Tony says as he jogs down the grand staircase, clapping his hands together. He’s dressed rather plainly, dark jeans with an oil stained shirt, and gives Loki a raised eyebrow once Loki catches his view, “And this must be the tagalong. Hi, Tony Stark – genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

 

Loki shakes Tony’s hand and keeps himself as polite as possible while he’s introduced to the rest of the people living there – Bruce is shut off but nice enough, Natasha is gorgeous and snarky; she almost reminds Loki of himself if he wasn’t so awkwardly made. Clint shakes his hand hard enough to snap it and Loki just manages to hold back a wince.

 

Steve Rogers is the last one Loki meets, and he reminds Loki of Thor; warm, kind, smiling, radiant. _Kid, you look beat,_ Steve says. Y _ou look hungry. You look like you need a good rest._

_You look like you’ve been through hell and back._

 

“Do you like them?” Thor asks nervously as he watches Loki put his clothes into the dresser of his new bedroom. As if Loki could truly hate the people who have taken him in with the promise of hot meals and a roof over his head with no expectations of repayment.

 

“They’re nice, I can see why your friends with them,” Loki says, glancing out to see the view of the city through his large, glass windows. Thor’s room is just down the hall; Tony had given Loki the extra room on Thor’s floor, but only after Loki insisted he didn’t need his own kitchen and laundry.

_Thor’s floor;_ Loki still can’t get over the sheer size of this place, each floor looking like its own apartment. “I’m just still trying to figure out what I can do to repay you.” Loki says after a beat, keeping his back to Thor as he chews his lip.

 

“Keep yourself alive,” Thor tells him, standing and walking to Loki. Loki can’t help but to turn and see Thor’s honest expression, “I rather enjoy your company, and I’d really hate to see you die,” Thor sweeps Loki up into a hug, and Loki makes a choked sound in the back of his throat, “I’m sorry about your family,” Thor murmurs after a moment, and Loki can’t stop the tears that roll down his face and soak into Thor’s shirt, “but you’re going to be okay, kid. I’ve got you.”

 

Loki can only nod as he cries; and oh, boy, does he cry. It feels so good to let it out; Loki wasn’t able to mourn his brothers. His father could’ve kicked the bucket ten times over and Loki would’ve pulled himself out of it but – Helbindi and Byleistr didn’t deserve it. They hadn’t done anything wrong and Loki should’ve been dead with them, but instead he was in California crying into the chest of a man he’d just met but felt like he’d known forever.

 

It was going to be okay. Thor had him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gets settled into the tower. All is well, until it isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this second chapter took so long! I had most of it done but got into a rut, and then life got in the way. Thank you to anyone who came back to this! I hope you enjoy.

Life at the tower was pretty good. Loki could think of a thousand worse places to be and they all involved bugs. He spent most of his time with Thor, the two of them watching TV together, eating together, doing nearly everything together. The Avengers leave them to their own devices most of the time, but Loki can tell they can’t believe how close they are. _Out of damn nowhere_ – Loki doesn’t miss the snide comments Tony makes that he thinks Loki can’t hear. Or maybe he does intend for him to hear; Loki can’t tell. Tony likes to play games with people, especially people dumber than he is. Loki ignores it just the same.

 

Thor cares about him and Loki finds he cares a fair lot about Thor, too. For once, Loki is happy.

 

Thor leaves each night with the Avengers; he makes it a point to not tell Loki exactly where he’s going. Each time the door closes Loki swears he won’t pry, but minutes later finds himself asking JARVIS where the team has gone. The disembodied butler assures him they will be back soon and to not fret, never revealing any information. Loki knows they’re out doing their ‘jobs,’ usually coming home late in the morning with bags full of cash or weird looking artifacts that Loki never gets more than a glance at.

 

Loki spends his time with Tony’s business partner Pepper; she’s the only one who never treated Loki like a child and made it a point to put Loki to work. She’d began by showing him the proper way to file and then moved onto editing police reports, showing Loki how to _spin the truth._

 

Basically, how to cover up anything illegal. Loki loves it.

 

Although they work in different spheres, with Loki busy during the day and Thor busy during the night, Thor doesn’t ignore Loki for his friends. Quite the contrary, Loki preens when Thor excuses himself from his team mates to spend time with him, alone. Loki falls asleep on the couch in the living room more often than not, the two talking long into the night when Thor doesn’t leave; Loki always waking up in his own bed the next day.

 

Thor is there even when he’s physically not; his jacket over the back of the couch, his favorite coffee mug in the sink, small notes left behind on Loki’s bathroom mirror in Thor’s scratchy hand, reminding him that there is laundry still in the washer with a quickly drawn smiley face.

 

Loki reads them and he smiles despite himself, always finding it hard to throw the notes away.

 

He doesn’t talk about it, but Loki worries for Thor. A lot. None of the Avengers have gotten wounded yet, but they always come back with scrapes and high blood pressure. Loki can only file through so many boxes of incident reports before checking the clock and wondering if that night will be the one where the Avengers luck runs out. All alone in an office, Loki can’t do much but silently pray it isn’t Thor on the line. He doesn’t feel remorse when he hopes its any of the others on the chopping block.

 

“Tomorrow is my birthday,” Loki mentions while he and Thor share lunch in north Hollywood, the first time in a while they’ve been able to spend a full day together, “I’ll be seventeen.”

 

Despite their fast bond, Loki hadn’t told Thor much about himself still. Loki was waiting for the punchline of the joke – the day that Thor would kick Loki out and get tired of him, when one of Loki’s jokes would go to far and he’d pay the price.

 

If something happened, it would be safer for Thor to know the bare minimum.

 

“What?” Thor says through the bite of his pork sandwich, eyes going wide, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could’ve thrown you a party!” Thor sits forward, reaching back into his pocket for his cellphone, “Actually, if I call Tony right now –”

 

“Well,” Loki cuts in, fiddling with the straw to his cherry coke, “I didn’t really want a party. I thought just you and me could do something,” Loki shrugs, trying his best to seem nonchalant as he goes back to his side salad.

 

Thor stops mid-type, setting his phone down as a warm smile blooms on his face, “Of course, kid. Whatever you wanna do.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Apparently, “ _Whatever you wanna do”_ meant Thor waking Loki up at the ass-crack of dawn, telling him to get showered and dressed in something comfortable for walking and dragging him out of the mansion before anyone else woke up.

 

Loki shooed Thor away with annoyance but got ready in ten minutes. Thor had asked Pepper to plan him and Loki an entire day, and Loki would’ve lied if he said he hadn’t enjoyed all of it.

 

They started with breakfast together and then Thor had taken Loki on the longest sight-seeing trip yet. Hours of walking were remedied with each look on Thor’s face Loki got when he complimented part of the trip. They stopped at any shop Loki showed interest in and every food cart Thor did, Thor insisting that they had to try all they could.

 

By the end of the day, Loki estimated they spent at least over one thousand on the company card Thor kept. Thor assured Loki he didn’t need to worry about it, that Tony owed it to Thor at this point.

 

Loki didn’t ask what he meant by that.

 

The pair ended up having dinner at the tower, postmating in enough food for ten people and setting up on the roof. The sun began to set as Loki brought up the hot containers, finding Thor maneuvering the outside furniture until they had their own circle of blankets and pillows with the long, rectangle class coffee table in the middle.

 

Loki feet ached from walking and he was famished for dinner, but he couldn’t stop the stupid smile that covered his face.

 

“Impressive,” Loki commented, climbing into the makeshift nest and setting the multiple bags of food down, “you should be a contractor.”

 

“It’s always been a secret talent of mine,” Thor laughed.

 

As the sun set they ate and drank, laughing and reminiscing about their day. By the end of it Loki felt impossibly full, and not just from the food and beer. Looking over at Thor in the warm-hued sunset, the citrus summer ale that Thor made sure he tried still bitter on his tongue, Loki wished he could lean over and bury himself into Thor’s side and never leave.

 

“Thank you,” Loki said softly, feeling the softness of the blankets under his fingertips as he watched the sun continue to set and the stars begin their journey of peeking out from the red and pink sky.

 

“You’re welcome,” Thor said cheerfully, reaching out and squeezing Loki’s arm, “I’m glad you had a good day. I left it all in Peppers hands, so if you have any complaints you can blame her.”

 

Loki laughed, “No, I’m okay. Today was great. And even if it wasn’t, I’m too scared to critique any of her work.”

 

“Smart man,” Thor agreed, sitting back and sipping on the wine left in his glass, “Oh, wow, Loki, come here,” Thor said suddenly, setting down his bottle so quick he nearly shattered the table, putting his hand at the small of Loki’s back with one hand and gesturing up with another.

 

Loki caught his breath, naturally leaning more onto Thor as he looked to where the man was pointing. The stars had begun to come out fully, and without the bright lights of the city Loki could see the constellations.

 

“That one, right there,” Thor said, taking Loki’s hand and using his finger to point with, tracing out the handful of crudely outlined stars, “That’s Delphinus, and that over there is Pegasus…”

 

Thor points out more constellations as the sun slunk away into darkness, bringing along the moon to illuminate their spot on the roof. Loki lost himself in the sound of Thor’s voice as he rested his cheek against Thor’s shoulder, letting Thor’s voice lull him into a daze.

 

Full, warm and content, Loki could think of nowhere else better to be.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Loki is left alone at the mansion a lot. He doesn’t mind it, though; JARVIS is there for security and it means he gets to do whatever he wants for a few hours when he’s not working. That usually means nap or watch movies, but still. It’s nice to have a moment to himself.

 

“I’m spending the day with Loki,” Natasha says one morning over breakfast, the team all looking at her in confusion. Loki feels his heart race. Of course, not all of them could end up trusting him. But what will she do? Stay back each time to keep an eye on him? Was Loki truly that distrustful?

 

“No one has taught you to fight yet, have they?” Natasha turns to Loki, a smile playing on her lips, “Well, I’ll teach you.”

 

 _Oh_ , Loki thinks, _okay._

 

Loki has always been flexible (and a fairly fast learner) so the moves Natasha begins with aren’t too hard if he really tries. And he _does_ try; Natasha is nice when she wants to be and Loki doesn’t want to waste this opportunity. Loki supposes if he works hard enough and shows he’s competent, Thor will let him come along on their outings. And that has been his end goal, after all.

 

“Left,” Natasha says, her leg coming around and knocking Loki square on his ass.

 

“Ow,” Loki grumbles, breathing a heavy breath and standing back up. His body aches and he’s pretty sure he wrapped his hands wrong, but Natasha looks impressed that he’s still wanting to go another round. She’s barely sweating.

 

“You know, there are other ways besides fighting that you can use to get out of a lower stress situation,” Natasha tells him later as they take a break for water.

 

“What do you mean?” Loki says in between concealing labored breaths, flexing his swollen knuckles around the thin plastic bottle.

 

“Loki,” Natasha pauses, something she doesn’t do often. She looks at Loki with something he can’t discern, “You’re a cute kid. A lot of weird old men like that. I’m not telling you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but just know you can also rely on your looks and words to sneak you out of a situation,” The awe-struck stare Loki gives Natasha makes her chuckle, almost. “I could teach you how to do that, too. If you wanted.” A beat passes. “For _safety purposes,_ ” She clarifies.

 

Loki catches on quickly and realizes exactly what Natasha means. Loki doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before, but it makes good enough sense. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea.

 

“Yeah,” Loki agrees, nodding, “yes. I’d like that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Loki knows it was a bad idea, okay? He knows that now. In hindsight.

 

Natasha had told him the physical bits; wear something tight, don’t show a lot so they have something to think about, touch gingerly, laugh at their jokes, look at them like they’re the center of your world. She sat him down at the kitchen island on her floor and did his makeup, going for as natural as possible. Some brown mascara, brow gel, a matte skin primer and a nude gloss. She helped him pick out the clothes: tight black jeans with a black and white printed button up _(leave the top few buttons open and wear a necklace, it gives them an excuse to stare)_.

 

Loki held back a gasp when he’d looked into a mirror for the first time since Natasha began helping him. He looked _good_. Really good. The clothes fit perfect and the makeup was minimal but beautiful, his green eyes standing out and framed by his tamed eyebrows. He watched as Natasha pulled his hair back and maneuvered it into one loose, thick braid and tied it off.

 

“We’re ready,” Natasha called down as they walked the main staircase to the lobby, all of the team waiting to go out for dinner. Loki followed behind her, growing nervous by each step. What would Thor think? Would he say it’s too much? Thor’s opinion had become everything to Loki. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Thor hated it, although Thor had yet to hate anything Loki did.

 

“About time,” Tony commented, “I thought we would never eat at this rate!” His tone was annoyed but he smiled as Natasha smacked him on the chest playfully.

 

“Stark, everyone here knows you take three times as long to get ready.” She replied.

 

“Loki?”

 

Everyone turned as Thor exited the living room and came into the lobby, catching sight of Loki who still stood on the last step. Thor looked wonderful too, his long blonde hair pulled back, dressed in white and steel grey, holding his jacket on his arm. Loki felt like he was going to prom.

 

“Natasha styled me tonight, do you like it?” Loki tried to keep his tone playful, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

 

“You look _great_ ,” Thor’s voice was astonished, breathless, and his smile was so, _so_ beautiful. Loki felt relief wash over him like a balm. They stared at each other for what felt like hours (but was only milliseconds), both seemingly unable to move.

 

“Alright, save the romance for the restaurant, were hungry,” Clint cut in, Steve shoving him with his shoulder. Loki’s chest flushed with embarrassment, but Thor continued to grin.

 

Off they went.

 

The restaurant screamed _rich_ , and not the ‘fake rich’ Loki was used to. Everything looked vintage but in perfect condition, from the barstools to the floorboards. Thor kept close by Loki on the ride over and as they sat down in the booth, all ordering their meals and sharing jokes. Although expensive, the clientele was still rowdy and very much drunk. Loki was the only one at the table not old enough to publicly drink, so it wasn’t long before Thor was holding onto him for balance as he hysterically laughed over something Bruce had said.

 

“I’m gonna step out for a second, it’s hot in here,” Steve said after finishing his glass, scooting his way out of the booth. Clint nodded in agreement as he took a sip of his own drink, standing to follow.

 

“I’ll come with you,” Thor said, unbuttoning the top of his collar. Loki could see the sweat on his temples under the dim lighting as Loki stepped out to allow Thor an exit. “We’ll be right back!” Thor assured, the rest of the team watching the three blondes as they made their way to the restaurant patio.

 

“I have to piss; Brucey, you coming?” Tony asked, only slightly slurred, and Bruce chuckled.

 

“Might have to, just incase you fall in the urinal.”

 

“Hey!”

 

The two left swiftly, Tony hanging onto Bruce’s arm.

 

Loki bounced his leg under the table, fingers playing with his drink. They were only a few feet from the bar, and Natasha _had_ dressed him up. Why not try to do what she’d taught him?

 

“Loki, I know that look,” Natasha warned, her drinks seemingly having had no effect, “If you want to attempt it, go ahead. If you need a way out, just give me a look and I’ll be there in a second.”

 

“I don’t know how to begin,” Loki admitted, glancing over the patrons at the bar.

 

“How about,” Natasha squinted as she surveyed the customers, “Him: last seat, black jacket.”

 

Loki saw immediately who she’d picked; the man wasn’t too old, maybe mid fifty’s, with short salt’n’pepper hair and a black blazer. The seat next to him was empty. Loki drummed his fingers on the wood table before taking a deep breath and nodding.

 

“I’ll be back.” Loki said, scooting out of the booth until he was standing. His stomach was in knots as he pulled his braid around to lay on his collarbone, making his way to the bar.

 

“Excuse me,” Loki asked as he approached the man, “Is this seat taken?”

 

The man looked annoyed as he turned, but once his gaze fell on Loki he’d instantly softened. Perfect.

  
“Not at all, come on up,” The man’s voice was low and he had a New York accent. Loki hopped up onto the bar seat and ordered a lime soda from the bartender, keeping himself as dainty and soft as possible, “Not old enough to drink, are we?”

“No, no,” Loki chuckled, thanking the bartender with a nod as he was given his drink, “Still eighteen,” he lied, “But all my friends have stepped out for air. Got a little boring sitting at my table alone.”

 

The man turned more to face him, “Sorry to hear that, something as pretty as you shouldn’t be all alone.” Loki felt his heart rate rise, laughing softly at the compliment, “My name’s Biff. What do they call you?”

 

“I’m Loki,” Loki replied, glancing over to Natasha who was watching him out of the corner of her eye. None of the team had returned yet.

 

“Loki,” Biff repeated, as if he was tasting the word, “What a unique name, for such a gorgeous young thing.”

 

Loki smiled as he looked down, blushing as best he could. He could smell the man’s cologne; way too woodsy and dark, not like Thor’s fresh colognes.

 

Loki wonders if he’ll always compare every man to Thor.

 

Biff’s tone was patronizing and narcissistic but Loki used it to his advantage, inquiring about the man’s job and life.

 

“I work at a company that makes equipment for hospitals,” Biff explains, and Loki nods as if it’s the most incredible job he’s heard of. As if he doesn’t have Thor at home, who used to be a cop and now does undercover mercenary work that even Loki isn’t sure what exactly it is. Thor, who leaves Loki sticky notes with little pictures drawn on them and sneaks Loki craft beers and whose hugs are so warm Loki feels like he could burst.

 

Loki catches himself daydreaming. Why was he doing this again?

 

He’s tuned most of Biff’s story out, but Loki snapped back to reality when the man puts his hand on Loki’s lower back.

 

“Oh,” Loki says, covering his shock with a laugh. Natasha told him some guys would grab him, but Loki still wasn’t prepared.

 

“Sorry to be so forward,” Biff says, his hand beginning to rub the small of Loki’s back, Loki’s skin crawling, “But how would your friends feel if you ditched them to come with me? You look like you could use a nice time.”

 

“Well, I,” Loki fumbles, feeling his chest collapsing. He can barely move, frozen in his spot. He needs to get out; he needs Natasha.

 

Thor doesn’t even bid Loki a hello before he decks the man in the face.

 

“Thor!” Loki shouts as the bar patrons erupt in yelling, the man falling off his seat with the force of Thor’s hit. Loki has never been so scared and so relieved in his life. Thor takes Loki by the bicep, dragging him out of the stool and out of the restaurant.

 

They are all promptly kicked out and forbid to return.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

And that’s how Loki ended where he is now: at the mansion, alone with Thor in _their_ kitchen, the rest of the team having all disbanded for bed.

 

“He could have kidnapped you, Loki! He could have found out who we are, what we do! Do you have any idea how _dangerous_ that was?” Thor shouts, Loki keeping his head down as he stands in the doorway,

 

“Natasha was teaching me, I thought—”

 

“Thought _what?_ Loki I – if something had happened, if he had _hurt_ you –” Thor cuts himself off, gripping onto the island and breathing deeply. Loki approaches Thor slowly, feeling the burning behind his eyes intensify until hot tears are slipping down his face. He hugs Thor from behind, wrapping his arms around Thor’s middle and pressing his face into Thor’s back.

 

“I’m sorry,” Loki manages, his tears soaking into Thor’s shirt, “I want to join you, I want to help.” Thor unlaces Loki from his middle, and Loki feels more tears race down his cheeks.

 

“Loki,” Thor turns, taking Loki’s face in his hands. Loki holds onto Thor’s wrists, watching as Thor sighs, not finishing his thought. Thor’s hands drop and he _walks away_ , the first time he’s done that to Loki since they met _months ago_. He walks clean out of their apartment, into the elevator and descends without another word.

 

Loki is left gaping, fresh tears in his eyes. He kicks the nearest thing as hard as he can, which ends up being a stool that falls over and rattles obnoxiously.

 

He looks up, into the mirror mounted beside the door. His makeup is melted under his eyes and his clothes are disheveled, leaving behind Loki – the one he hasn’t seen in almost eleven months. The scared little boy with no family, the one who takes and takes and _takes_ but can’t ever seem to give.

 

Loki kicks over another stool. Rips off the expensive shirt. Downs two glasses of the fireball Thor keeps under the sink. It burns, but not nearly enough.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Two weeks later, Loki and Thor are still on thin ice with one another. Loki is prideful, and although is swamped with guilt refuses to admit defeat. He swiftly comes to the decision that Thor had no right yelling at him like he did. Loki is an adult, if Thor likes it or not. What Loki decides to do with himself is his own business.

 

Thor forbids Natasha from teaching Loki anything more. She’s not under Thor’s jurisdiction, but is on Thor’s side anyway and already told Loki his best bet was staying under Pepper’s wing. He was too young and too inexperienced, it was a dumb idea and fairly dangerous.

 

It feels like Avengers V. Loki, with the only person technically on his side being Bruce, who declared he didn’t get involved in other people’s emotional disputes and was staying neutral.

 

It culminates to a single night at three in the morning when Thor comes home with a bullet in his side.

 

The only other one who is hurt is Steve, who sustained a bullet graze on his left arm. No one is freaking out, which is freaking _Loki_ out because Thor has a fucking _bullet in his abdomen._

 

It was a big mission, that’s all Loki had known. They had to call in a bunch of people to help, including a guy with a prosthetic arm ( _hey, kid, the name is Bucky_ ) and a girl with hair red like Natasha’s ( _hello, I’m Wanda_ ).

 

“Loki, don’t, you shouldn’t see that,” Steve says, attempting to hold Loki back with the arm Bucky isn’t bandaging. Loki pushes past, entering the living room where Thor is laying on the floor with Clint and Bruce, both working diligently to remove the metal from his body. There is blood everywhere; Loki hasn’t seen that much since he lost his family. He thinks he’s going to be sick.

 

“Thor,” Loki says, dropping down beside his head. Thor looks up at him, eyes glazed and unfocused.

 

“We’ve already given him a sedative,” Bruce says absently as Clint finds the bullet with an _ah-ha!_ , pulling it out with a long pair of metal tweezers. Thor hisses, back arching, which causes more strain on the wound and causes another pained shout to rip from his throat.

 

“Loki,” Thor slurs, bringing a hand up that Loki quickly takes, shushing him and running a hand over his sweat-caked hair.

 

“We have to stitch it up,” Clint says, pulling more items from the large first aid kit. Thor’s blood has soaked into _everything:_ his clothes, Clint and Bruce’s clothes, and Tony’s very expensive carpet. Loki keeps his eyes on Thor’s face and does his best to not think of his brothers in the same position as Thor is now. Having a panic attack won’t help anyone and Loki feels close to it.

 

When the needle first pushes through Thor’s skin his entire body tenses, grabbing at Loki’s arm more fervently. Loki soothes him and puts his fingers through Thor’s hair, doing his best to calm Thor until _finally_ Clint is finished, placing bandages over the fresh stiches. Bruce fills a syringe with something clear and ties off Thor’s bicep with blue rubber tape before injecting his arm.

 

“Want to help us lift him? He’s on the ninth floor,” Clint asks Bucky who nods, and Loki holds back a cringe as they haul Thor up onto his feet and carry him to the elevator. Loki follows close behind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Once Thor is dropped off into his bed, Bucky and Clint leave as quietly as they came. Loki watches the elevator close with a _ding_ and he stands, alone, in the kitchen for a moment before he breaks down into tears.

 

He doesn’t know why he’s crying because Thor is _fine._ He’s not going to die, thanks to Clint and Bruce. He’ll be out of commission for a bit, but once he can go back he _will_ because he’s Thor. Loki wonders if this is how Thor felt after the incident at the bar, only a million times worse because Thor actually got hurt.

 

Loki knows he can’t stand in the kitchen and cry all night, especially not when he promised Clint he’d watch over Thor. As if he could truly go into his own bedroom and ignore the hurt man who has given him everything.

 

Thor is still wearing his pants and shoes, having had what was left of his shirt ripped off to sew up his wound. Loki breathes through his mouth to not smell the blood as he takes off Thor’s shoes and red-stained pants. His boxers have some blood on them, but Loki isn’t going as far to strip the man completely naked. Loki can only handle so much at once.

 

He manages to get Thor into a loose pair of pajama pants and takes his hair out of its tie. Loki builds up the pillows and blankets, tucking Thor in and leaving water at his bedside.

 

Loki knows he should stay and watch over Thor, but he feels like he’s suffocating. All he can think of is his family, ridden with bullet holes and faces frozen in fear. Dying in vain.

 

He takes the elevator to the rooftop.

 

The night air is cool and the city is glimmering. Loki sits on one of the chairs and attempts to steady his breathing, staring off over the edge.

 

_Thor is fine, he’s okay. Stop overreacting._

 

“Loki? That’s your name, right?”

 

Loki turns quickly, seeing Bucky approach him from the other side of the roof. A lit cigarette hangs in his hand that he drops and snubs out with his shoe. Loki nods, head following Bucky as he rounds the table and sits one chair away from Loki.

 

“You alright? I know Steve told me you don’t see a lot of the blood.” Bucky inquires, and Loki has time to actually look at the man. His long brown hair is pulled up like Thor’s normally is, with stubble instead of a full beard. He looks tired.

 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Loki asks instead of answering. Bucky shrugs.

 

“I could ask you the same,” Bucky responds, giving Loki a small smile. They fall into silence, Loki fiddling his hands as he looks out onto the city again, “He, uh, asked for you.” Bucky says suddenly, causing Loki to turn his head.

 

“What?”

 

“Thor. When he first got hit, we were bringing him back in the car and he kept asking for you, saying we had to look after you for him. ‘Tell Loki it’s gonna be okay,’ he said,” Bucky admits, voice neutral. There’s a beat of silence before he continues, “Steve said Thor’s known all of them a millennia longer than he’s known you, but when he got shot the first thing on his mind was you.”

 

Loki’s head swims; he’s rendered speechless.

 

Bucky sighs, “I don’t know what your deal is and it’s not my business, nor do I really care,” he shrugs, taking the pack of menthols from his pocket and shaking them back and forth, almost like a tick, “But it’s obvious Thor cares about you.”

 

“Thanks,” Loki says dumbly, trying to filter all this new information.

 

“No problem,” Bucky quips, standing and shoving his cigarettes back into his jeans pocket, beginning to make his way to the roof exit, “get some sleep, kid,” he calls, opening the door and stepping inside, “you look wrecked, and that’s coming from me.”

 

After Loki is left alone, his mind continues to reel. He thinks of the past weeks of him and Thor barely looking at each other, Thor treating Loki nearly as good as a stranger. Was it killing Thor inside as much as it was to Loki? It must've been. Loki was blind to not see it, not seeing how much he needed Thor – how much he loved Thor.

 

Love. That's it, the single straw breaking the camels back and melting Loki's resolve. Loki lets the tears stream down his face, taking in large gulps of air as he settles himself into his fate.

 

He loves Thor more than anything in the world. If following in Pepper's footsteps is what makes Thor happy, Loki can learn to love it like how he loves that man. He'll be the best god damn file clerk on the west coast, and every night he'll come back to Thor and it'll be enough.

 

Loki stands, looks out over the skyline and wonders where he would be if his family was still alive. He can't change the past, so he doesn't dwell. He doesn't have the time; Thor is downstairs bruised and bloody, needing Loki's surveillance and love.

 

_Love._

 

Sunlight cracks onto the horizon, marring the darkness. Cars begin to honk and birds squawk, the city wakes. The sound of life fills the air.

 

Loki loves Thor. It'll be enough, for now. It has to be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are always loved! you can find me at lokifrea.tumblr.com


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